Unplugged: The Beautiful World (#3, Unplugged Trilogy)

Chapter Twenty Seven

It's much warmer outside than I thought the clouds would warrant. Maybe what looks like clouds are really waves of smoke and dust, confining the sun's heat to the surface. Jackson, Oscar, and Matthew had divided our supplies between the three of them, carrying them laboriously up and around hills of trash. I had offered to help, but each of them refused my assistance. Danny packed exactly six sleeping bags, twelve water bottles, sixty cans of soup, thirty packs of stale crackers, a few dirty jackets, some matches, and three utility knives. When I asked him how he planned on us getting anywhere without a car, he smiled and told me to hold on. Whatever that means.
    Twenty minutes pass of us hiking over stone, brick, and asphalt. We don't worry about censoring the amount of noise we make since all signs point to the helicopters and drones being gone. After another thirty minutes of aimless walking, Jackson holds up a hand at the front of the group and makes all of us stop. I lean against a fallen store front sign, fingering a stitch in my side. The muscles in my legs are almost numb with pain. I can't even begin to imagine how Matthew's feeling with that weight on his back.
    "Where are we even going?" Jackson gasps, face dripping with sweat. He narrows his eyes and brushes the bangs off of his forehead. "There's no way we're gonna walk all the way down the coast."
    "We're not," Becca says, her voice thin with exhaustion. "We just have to find a car." A moment passes where no one speaks, and then Jackson bursts into cruel laughter. He raises his eyebrows in mock sympathy.
    "Oh, right. We just have to find a car. It's not like this place has been bombed, or anything. Maybe on the way we can order a pizza, too." Oscar sets his bags down, face red and shining.
    "Man, I am so close to slugging you right now."
"Oh yeah?" Jackson narrows his eyes and drops his own bags.
    "Stop!" Leah demands, her voice harsh. She catches the boys' attention. "Let Becca finish." I look to the little girl, who seems to shrink in shyness.
    "It's okay," I urge. "What do you have in mind?"
    "Danny told me that at the entrance to every major city there's a lot full of military vehicles."
    "In case they need to navigate the city on the ground," I mutter to myself. My mind starts to whir.
    "He said that anyone with a basic knowledge of mechanics could jump start one of the engines," Becca mumbles, pushing the rim of her glasses so they balance perfectly on the bridge of her petite nose. "I'm sure I could do it."
    "How would you know anything about mechanics?" Matthew asks dubiously, leaning against a pile of stone. Becca's neck blushes as she's directly addressed by Matthew.
    "I read books," she replies quietly. No one argues with her. Instead, they all look to me--even Jackson--as if seeking my opinion for guidance. I swallow and wipe the sweat from my brow, feeling self-conscious. Go on, leader. Lead!
    "I say we look for one of these ... vehicles. It makes sense."
    "But you know what doesn't make sense?" Jackson counters, biting his thumbnail. I chew the inside of my cheeks to keep from scowling. "How Danny only told this information to a seven-year-old."
    "I'm thirteen," Becca counters.
    "Whatever."
    "Maybe Danny realized that placing his trust in a group of people meant disclosing certain information to certain individuals within the group," Leah mutters. Her ponytail hangs limply behind her head, heavy with moisture and debris from the air. Jackson just shrugs and shoulders on all of his bags. He continues to walk, ignoring us.
    "Can someone please remind me why he came along?" Oscar mutters, practically shaking with suppressed annoyance. We start walking again, Matthew and Oscar at the front of our party. Becca trails behind Leah and I.
    "I wish Sara were here," Leah mutters quietly. A surge of shame darts up through my ribs. In all of the recent excitement, I'd completely forgotten about my old friend.
    "I bet you really got to know her," I mutter. Leah bites her bottom lip.
    "I don't want to talk about it..." I nod in understanding, trying not to let a twinge of jealousy take root. Who am I to grow upset that some people weren't as miserable as I was during the time I was trapped in the Base?
After our conversation, I focus on breathing deeply, navigating the uneven terrain spreading before us. Something about the way we walk openly in the streets, speaking as loudly as we please, feels almost freeing. It's hard to remember that a great bulk of my life took place following the majority. After what feels like two hours of roaming the streets, heading towards the entrance of the city, our party reaches a squat, metallic building that managed to survive the damage. A large garage door blocks entry, with the words "Government Personnel Only" written across it in red spray paint.
    "Looks promising," I say, trying to boost everyone's morale. "Becca?"
    "I think this is it," she says, licking her lips. Matthew drops his bags and walks over to the door, bending down and grabbing the handle. He lifts upwards with all of his strength, muscles bulging, and the door arduously begins to rise.
    "Oscar," he gasps, sucking in a tense breath. Oscar and Jackson rush over simultaneously, grabbing the bottom of the garage and helping Matthew to send it upwards. It takes the three of them just a few seconds to secure the large door. Behind it, in the recesses of the dark building, are several black military jeeps. Spare tires, tool boxes, and gasoline cans lie against the perimeters of the walls or sit in boxes supported by hanging wooden shelves. It vaguely reminds me of the storage room in the Depot, minus the smell of oil and the general vibe of abandonment. I enter the shop and try the light switch. It doesn't work.
    "Start putting the supplies in the back compartment," Leah says to the boys. She turns to me. "Enna, help me gather as many gas cans as you can find while Becca kick starts the engine." Everyone gets to work, storing and gathering supplies. Leah and I drop to our knees, reaching into dirty corners and cob-webbed crevices. After about thirty minutes of searching, I have a stack of three heavy containers full of gasoline. I laboriously lug them over to the back of the vehicle nearest the street. The trunk--made of a heavy, bulletproof material--is spacious enough for the cans and the supplies together, with room to spare.
    At the front of the jeep, Becca bites her tongue and digs into the engine. Wires, plugs, and other gadgets stick out of the hood in confusing jumbles. The rest of us stare at her in shock, occasionally glancing at each other and raising our eyebrows. This little girl is a force to be reckoned with. Danny was definitely mistaken, thinking she couldn't help us in any way. After a short process involving a utility knife and a lit match, the jeep roars to life with the sound of an angry rhinoceros.
    "Good job!" I shout over the noise, clapping Becca on the back. She smiles back at me and slams the hood shut. Her hands are black with rust, dirt, and dark liquids. She doesn't waste time cleaning them with spit and a spare rag.
    "C'mon," Oscar says, swinging into the driver's seat. The rest of us start to pile in behind him. "We'd better get moving."
    "Do you know how to drive this thing?" Leah asks warily, surveying Oscar as if he's a ticking time bomb. He shrugs off his bag and firmly grabs the large steering wheel.
    "It's either me or the ten-year-old girl."
    "Thirteen," Becca insists.

* * *

    Becca stares eagerly out of the small, tinted window set beside her in the jeep. We both sit in the back seat, hidden behind the middle row of seats where Matthew and Leah lean against their adjacent windows. Both of them had fallen asleep as soon as the jeep starting traveling at a steady pace.
Oscar had been driving beside a silently brooding Jackson for well over a half hour. I'd tried to sleep several times, but the exciting prospect of our impending mission had erased any possibilities of peaceful slumber. Instead, I watch through the window as miles of empty highway fly by us.
    "Why aren't you sleeping?" I ask Becca. "I'm sure you need the rest." She glances over at me and tucks a few strands of her short hair behind her ears.
    "It's just so cool being away from the city! I've never seen anything on the outside before..."
    "You'll get used to it," I mutter, chucking darky. Becca studies me for an uncomfortably long period of time. After a few minutes, I start to feel as if she's looking into me, digging around inside my mind. I swallow.
    "Something really bad happened to you, didn't it?" She says suddenly. "Something you don't tell anyone about?" I feel my face start to warm, and my hands tremble on my lap. I sit on them so Becca can't tell.
    "Maybe," I mumble. "It's not something I enjoy thinking about, really..."
    "I get it," she says quickly, sensing my discomfort. I hurriedly change the subject.
    "Well, what about you? I think you even impressed Matthew with those mechanic skills of yours." Becca laughs giddily, and I find myself gaining energy from her lighthearted joy. "So you read books?"
    "It's all I did," she says eagerly, fidgeting with her glasses. "When I visited with my parents every couple of months, I'd sneak into the attic. Each visit, I stole five books from an ancient storage box and smuggled them into my dormitory at school. I spent every spare moment away from the cameras reading."
    "That was very risky of you," I say, genuinely impressed. Maybe there's more to this girl than I first thought.
    "I know, but I couldn't bear not reading books at all! With the textbooks full of lies and the 'library' drowning in political essays, I could hardly think straight without them." She bites her lip and glances upwards thoughtfully. "It's actually quite strange. In the one place where knowledge is supposedly so important, real books aren't allowed or even made available." I try to imagine how it would feel trying to hide such an enormous secret for so many years, dodging cameras and watchful gazes at every moment.
    "You were even braver than I was," I mutter, smiling a little. Suddenly, utter exhaustion slams into me like a tsunami wave as I remember my old life back at the AGD. I lie my head back against the stiff headboard behind my neck.
    "Really?" Becca asks, eyes wide and watering. I nod just before unconsciousness takes me swiftly.