Fancy Boy. It can't be coincidence. I meet his stare. He is not the same Non-pact that Kara and I confronted on the road. But the words and body language are the same--even the long black coat. Like they are part of some gang. The land pirate gang. I could take him. I want to take him. I want to show him that I am more than just a boy. I want to tear his head right off his shoulders. I'm tired of taking crap, and I want to give some back. I could. I begin to stand. I want to show off my height, my size, and watch him reassess. But halfway up, I see the flash of Kara's face. The momentary satisfaction of splitting this guy's skull is not my ultimate goal, not to mention his three companions might join in. Miesha or Dot could get hurt. We need to get out of here as quietly and quickly as possible.

Like all the times I forced a smile for Dr. Gatsbro because it was expedient, I force one to my lips now as I continue to stand, straightening to my full height, my eyes never leaving his, and then I hold out my hand. It takes more strength than cracking three skulls.

"My name is Locke. My friends and I need help."

He suspiciously eyes my outstretched hand. By now his three friends have turned in their seats to watch the show. I return my unshaken hand to my side. "We were on our way to a funeral, and our car broke down. If we don't hurry, we'll miss our train in Topeka. We were hoping we could find some transportation here."

"Who died?" he asks.

Miesha and I blurt out our answers almost simultaneously.

"My brother."

"My mother."

He smiles at our misstep, revealing rotten front teeth.

"Both," I say. "They were in an accident together. Her brother and my mother."

"Sure they were," he says, walking closer. He pulls out the remaining chair at our table and sits down. "Tough break. But we can get you on the road again quick enough." He leans closer and says in a low voice, "But these things are costly, Fancy Boy."

I nod. "Of course they are. How much?"

"Seein' as how I'm in a high-minded mood today, I think we could be doing this little deal for ten thousand duros and--"

"Ten thousand! Are you--"

"Wait," Miesha says. "I have it." She pulls her money card from a pocket in her trousers and slides it across the table. "But it will be five thousand, and you'll get us on the road within ten minutes--all three of us. And then you'll forget that we ever existed. Got that?"

I stare at Miesha. Even Dot has looked up from her lap.

The land pirate looks amused. "And why would I be giving away my valuable services so cheap to the likes of--"

"Karden Sanders. That's why. He was my husband."

I haven't a clue what is going on or who this person is that Miesha seems to have become, but the snarl on the land pirate's face has disappeared and is replaced by a blank stare as he appears to take in every detail of her appearance. His gaze lingers on her arms, and for once, Miesha doesn't move to hide her scars.

He finally turns to me. "We have a truck out back. You pay for the fuel and our lunch, and we'll call it even."

Chapter 33

We huddle in the back of the flatbed truck with a plastic tarp thrown over us. Miesha has shut me out, refusing to elaborate on Karden Sanders or the land pirate's change of heart.

"This is insanity," I whisper, incensed that she's pulled a card like this but then won't share it. "Insanity!"

"But it's my insanity, and all you need to know is it bailed you out."

Miesha is mixed up with something bad--maybe illegal--and that means I am too. That makes it my business. I fume in silence while we eat the sandwiches that we got to go. The tuna is greasy, and the bread is stale. At least the moody Greta at Gatsbro's estate could cook. Right now I think Dot is lucky that she doesn't eat. Even she is silent. Mostly. "I'm an Escapee. An Escapee. Just like you." Besides the occasional chanting of her new status, she concentrates on keeping her balance so she won't slide across the bed of the truck when our driver takes sharp turns. The land pirate and his friends hooted when they saw the rest of Dot beneath her canvas blanket. Contraband, they called her. Stolen Bots bring high prices and stiff sentences. Even land pirates don't mess with them. We're quite the trio, illegal on every level imaginable. At least I assume Miesha has some criminal past--and maybe a present one too.

I finish my sandwich and give Miesha one last glaring look before I close my eyes and try to block it all out. How did I get here? Hiding in the back of a land pirate's truck with fabricated but very cracked ribs, a stolen Bot on one side of me, a likely criminal on the other, and more than two centuries and a dozen lifetimes from who I was? Does any part of the Locke I was even exist anymore?

A familiar ache sneaks inside of me and fills the space where real things used to be. Real things like my parents, my sister, even my brother. My aunts and uncles and their potluck dishes. My dad's voice telling me not to be too late as I walked out the door.

His voice. It was the last thing I heard.

Don't leave us, Locke. Please don't leave us. But I did.

There was a time when all I wanted was for my life to be different, and now all I want is for it to be what it was. I might as well be wishing for a time machine. It's all gone. My home. My family. My whole neighborhood. Even the small stone bridge a few blocks from my house that I thought would last forever. It was one of my favorite places to be by myself, and when I met Kara and Jenna, I shared it with them. We used to dangle our legs from its lower trestle while we spouted great thoughts that would change the world.