The Lost Code Part 3

And the reason Leech even knew a retro word like turtleneck turtleneck was because he was a Cryo. He'd been frozen during the Great Rise and put safely inside EdenWest by his parents, who couldn't afford to move in themselves. After things settled down, the Cryos were awakened in batches. He and the others lived at Cryo House, which was like a foster home over in the main EdenWest city. All the Cryos came to camp, but then the rest of the kids here were apparently normal, the grandchildren of EdenWest's original inhabitants, and so this was just another part of their life of luxury. Not that I blamed them for that. It wasn't their fault they'd grown up in here. They couldn't be expected to know what it was like outside, to treat the sun like an enemy, to never have tasted spinach. was because he was a Cryo. He'd been frozen during the Great Rise and put safely inside EdenWest by his parents, who couldn't afford to move in themselves. After things settled down, the Cryos were awakened in batches. He and the others lived at Cryo House, which was like a foster home over in the main EdenWest city. All the Cryos came to camp, but then the rest of the kids here were apparently normal, the grandchildren of EdenWest's original inhabitants, and so this was just another part of their life of luxury. Not that I blamed them for that. It wasn't their fault they'd grown up in here. They couldn't be expected to know what it was like outside, to treat the sun like an enemy, to never have tasted spinach.

I ate that first dinner quietly, thinking, Great, twenty-nine days left and I've already been identified, categorized, and labeled Great, twenty-nine days left and I've already been identified, categorized, and labeled. And things only got worse as dinner went on. I sat there mostly quiet except when Todd would ask me a question, and watched as friends.h.i.+ps formed around me, everyone gravitating to one another, the natural thing that people did, except for me, a satellite off in my own orbit. It was just like so often back at school, and I never knew how it happened, how you did that magic thing where you became part of a group, and it seemed like, once again, it was already too late before it even started.

There were ten of us in the cabin. We'd gotten the basics out of the way the first night: Leech, Jalen, and Xane were the Cryos. Mike, Carl, Wesley, Bunsen, and Beaker lived with their families in EdenWest. Noah and I were the outsiders. He was from Dallas Beach, along the Texas coastline. It was kind of like Hub: a little satellite state of the ACF, which basically meant that, other than the military units that came and went to escort supplies, it was on its own. You'd think that would have made us natural friends, but Noah had already made his intention clear to join Jalen and Mike as one of Leech's minions. I suppose I could have done the same, but it never really occurred to me, and it had been obvious even by the end of dinner that first night that no more invitations for the Leech club were going to be available. Also, I was pretty sure I didn't like him from the first moment I met him.

Leech and Jalen had immediately started bonding by referencing ancient TV shows and comic books and junk from way back in pre-Rise, talking in code and making the rest of us feel inferior. When Leech had started tossing out nicknames at dinner, Jalen was the only one who laughed. Xane got the jokes but didn't really join in. He was the one who'd told me what Turtle meant, later.

"What happened to your neck?" asked Beaker as I reached the ladder to my bunk. He had the bed below mine. Leech had two cubbies, even though we were only supposed to take one each, and so all of Beaker's clothes and shoes were stuffed under his bed.

Just the mention of my neck made the slow itching seem to get stronger.

I was about to answer when Leech's voice boomed across the room. "Beaker! I thought I told you: no speaking!"

Beaker sighed quietly and his shoulders slumped.

"Good Beaker," said Leech.

It had been established that Bunsen and Beaker were on the lowest rung of the cabin food chain, where everything you did made you a target. I seemed to be up on the second level, where you were more just invisible, enough so that you could drown without anyone noticing.

"You can talk if you want to," said Bunsen quietly to Beaker. He was lying on the next bunk over, typing up a letter on a computer pad, the blue light reflecting on his big round gla.s.ses. The cabin only had one computer. You weren't allowed to bring your own, to preserve the experience. But you could write a letter home on the cabin pad, and then the camp would send the letters out over the gamma link each night.

"Hey, bed wetter!" Noah snapped, looking up from an old board game called Stratego that he was playing with Mike. He was talking to Bunsen. Jalen claimed that he'd seen Bunsen crying and changing his sheets in the middle of the night. No one could confirm this, but Leech and his gang had decided it was fun to believe it, and so it was. "Shut up and try not to p.i.s.s yourself!"

"You-," Bunsen began.

"Careful, bed wetter," warned Leech.

I climbed up into my bunk and lay down, staring at the ceiling. My neck was starting to really burn. I rubbed at the bandages with my knuckles.

"All right, guys." Todd appeared in the doorway. "Time to head to the dining hall."

Everyone stopped what they were doing and started out.

I sat up but then felt a wave of dizziness and lay back down. The itching rose like a wave.

"Owen, how you feeling?" asked Todd.

"I don't know," I said.

"Dr. Maria said you might need to rest. If you want to skip dinner, that's fine with me."

"Okay, yeah."

"We'll bring you back some food."

"Thanks."

I listened to them leave, a commotion of shuffling footsteps, jostling shoulders, and laughing and shouts. It faded. The insect drone seeped through the window, the cabin now silent and still.

I fell asleep for a little while, but the burning in my neck woke me up. I needed a distraction, so I grabbed the computer pad and lay back down. I started a letter to Dad: Hey Dad, Things are okay here. Guess you heard about my swimming accident but I'm mostly okay.

I stopped, not knowing what else to report. I didn't want to tell him about my neck. Not because of Lilly's warning not to tell anyone, but because I didn't want him to worry. I wondered if I should tell him that things were basically terrible in my cabin? That would probably make him worry, too.

It's Tuesday. How was work? How was the game?

I tried to think of more to write, like maybe ask him what he had for dinner. Thinking about Dad and how he'd manage on his own made me think of how Mom always made fun of him for not liking to cook. She used to say that he'd be lost without her. Except she didn't seem to think about that when she left.

The itching was getting worse, so much so that I could barely think straight.

Okay, write back soon.Owen I sent the message and put the pad down. I lay back, trying to keep my hands off the bandages. Maybe if I thought about Lilly, about her lips on my ear as she whispered to me, about the closeness of her leaning over me and the view I'd had of her bathing-suited figure-and that made things start to burn in other places.... But even that couldn't compete with the searing in my neck.

I ran my fingers over the bandages. Hotter. And I was starting to have this weird urge. I didn't get what it was, I just knew that I couldn't lie there anymore. I had to get up. Had to do something. It was almost like I wasn't in control of myself.

I climbed down off my bunk, wincing now, gasping at the pain, and started pulling off my clothes, while at the same time wondering, What are you doing? What are you doing?

Don't worry, said a new technician in a bright-red jumpsuit. You want this itching to stop, right? You want this itching to stop, right?

Yes, that was what I wanted. So badly.

Okay, he said as he busily a.s.sembled a new monitor screen, then just do this. then just do this.

I stripped down, grabbed my towel from my cubby, wrapped it around my waist, and headed for the bathroom.

I turned on the shower, cold water only. Dr. Maria had given me explicit instructions: stay out of the water. But I wasn't thinking about that. Or anything, really.

Keep going, the new technician advised.

The water hissed out of the showerhead. I got in. The second the stream hit my chest, I felt this huge s.h.i.+ver, and then a rush of calm. Like everything was relaxing. My wounds still itched, but less.

Don't touch them. That was Dr. Maria's other warning. But instead I started clawing at the tape that held the bandages on. I peeled it up and unwound the fabric. At the end, the last few layers resisted, stretching away and then finally breaking their dried-blood bonds with snaps of pain. The burning surged. I leaned out, tossed the crusted bandages into a sink, then dunked my head into the shower spray. That was Dr. Maria's other warning. But instead I started clawing at the tape that held the bandages on. I peeled it up and unwound the fabric. At the end, the last few layers resisted, stretching away and then finally breaking their dried-blood bonds with snaps of pain. The burning surged. I leaned out, tossed the crusted bandages into a sink, then dunked my head into the shower spray.

Water poured over me, down over the wounds, and the itching suddenly ceased. Like my nerves had been shut off. Relief spread through me.

There we go, said the new technician.

I reached back up to the wounds. My fingers came away with thick crimson blots. Drops of water dabbed the blood away. But the wounds didn't hurt. They didn't itch. And the blood wasn't bothering me. Not since the water had starting falling on me. There was blood and water and wounds, and yet I felt calm, that strange sense of peace like I'd had on the lake floor, returning.

Other technicians were shrugging. I can't explain it, sir I can't explain it, sir, said one.

None of this made sense except the undeniable relief. Okay Okay, I told myself, think like a normal person think like a normal person. If the wounds don't hurt, then this blood is just 'cause the bandages pulled off some scabs on the surface, or something. The wounds must be almost healed. Fine. If the wounds don't hurt, then this blood is just 'cause the bandages pulled off some scabs on the surface, or something. The wounds must be almost healed. Fine. So we rinse them off and cover them up again. So we rinse them off and cover them up again. I stuck my head back into the shower stream and turned to the side, exposing the wounds. Water hit them directly and the calm feeling increased, the pain barely a memory. I stuck my head back into the shower stream and turned to the side, exposing the wounds. Water hit them directly and the calm feeling increased, the pain barely a memory.

Then I coughed. Took a breath but coughed again. Wait-there was a weird feeling, like water in my throat. Tightness in the back of my windpipe. I couldn't breathe.

I lurched away from the stream of water and slapped at the dial. The water stopped, but my balance was off. Spots bloomed in my vision, and I tripped and fell sideways, tearing down the shower curtain and landing on the cement floor.

I lay there, staring at the wooden ceiling with its single naked lightbulb, trying to breathe, but I couldn't, like nothing worked. Everything stuck.

Um, we really need air, said a technician. He jabbed at the glowing b.u.t.ton that should have opened my mouth, but my mouth was already opening and closing, gulping at the air but getting nothing.

Don't panic, said the new technician, working busily.

Oxygen is running low! shouted the technician monitoring my blood. shouted the technician monitoring my blood.

The edges of the world grew dark again. I was back on the lake bottom....

Owen, this is just the beginning.

It was her again. The voice from the lake. Who was she? Stop thinking about that! You are drowning again! Stop thinking about that! You are drowning again! But that didn't make sense. Oh, maybe she was like a sprite, or a nymph, or one of those other creatures from old stories about s.h.i.+pwrecks and sailors. Mermaid? Siren? But that didn't make sense. Oh, maybe she was like a sprite, or a nymph, or one of those other creatures from old stories about s.h.i.+pwrecks and sailors. Mermaid? Siren? There are no sirens in the lake! There are no sirens in the lake!

The sound of other voices broke me out of my thoughts. From outside, getting closer. My cabin was coming back.

I tried to breathe again, tried to suck in air- And it worked. I felt my throat burst open, my lungs ballooning, and then I coughed out a huge breath. Whatever had been keeping them from working-blocking them, it felt like-had stopped.

I scrambled to my feet, untangling from the nylon curtain. Had to not be naked when my cabin got back. I grabbed my towel from the hook and threw it around my waist. I had just secured it when that gagging feeling like I'd felt at the lake came back and I staggered to the sink and threw up a slick of bile, shower water, and blood. Looking up into the mirror, I saw my dripping chin, my shuddering naked body, and the wounds on my neck- Whoa.

They were way worse than I'd imagined. Two long, red gashes on each side of my neck. They didn't seem to be bleeding at the moment. I reached toward one with a finger and found that the red separated, and for just a moment my finger slipped inside the wound-way too far-and there was blinding pain and white spots. I grabbed the sink to stay on my feet. too far-and there was blinding pain and white spots. I grabbed the sink to stay on my feet.

The wounds had looked feathery inside. Like there were flaps of skin. These didn't look like bites, like parasites feeding or whatever. What had happened to me? An infection? Was this that flesh-eating bacteria that you heard about at medical clinics along the ACF border? Or that cholera mutation that was ravaging south Asia?

The screen door slapped open. I could hear laughing. Okay, the wounds were really weird but seemed stable. I had to move. At any moment, the bathroom door would slam open and Leech or one of his crew would pop in and find me with this mess everywhere and come up with some amazingly stupid yet funny-to-them way to hara.s.s me for it. I looked at the shut door, then the broken shower curtain. First, my neck.... I grabbed the bandages from the sink. They'd gotten damp, but they'd have to do. I wrapped them back into place. The tape was gone, so I tucked in the end and hoped it would hold.

Feet clomped into the bunk room. I turned on the shower to wash away the blood, whipped paper towels out of the dispenser, tearing them free. Turned the shower off, dropped to the floor, wiped the blood from around the shower drain. I got most of it, threw the towels in the trash, tore out more, and threw them on top of the b.l.o.o.d.y ones to cover the mess. Then I grabbed the shower curtain. A few of the rings were broken, so I tossed it over the rod. Turned back to the door. It would have to be good enough....

A few seconds pa.s.sed. There were shouts, more laughing, then a heavy thud. I cracked open the door and peered out.

Leech had Bunsen in a headlock. His chubby legs were flailing uselessly. "I told you not to talk! Stupid bed wetter! You smell like p.i.s.s! It's cleaning time!"

Meanwhile, Mike and Noah were on Bunsen's bed, stuffing his blankets, sheets, clothes, and pillow out the tiny window beside his bunk. Closer, Beaker was sitting on the floor, holding his knees to his chest, his face red, trying not to cry. Jalen was just finis.h.i.+ng up giving his bed the same treatment. Jalen looked down at Beaker. "That's for getting me put in the box," he taunted.

I shuffled quickly over to my bunk, glad to be invisible by comparison. I kept my chin down, but n.o.body even noticed my wet bandages. I climbed up the ladder and found a metal dining hall plate on my bed. It was piled with some kind of noodle ca.s.serole, but there was dirt all over it.

"Oh, Owen, dude, sorry," Xane called from across the room. I turned to see him shrugging apologetically. "We got that for you but it got knocked on the ground on the way back." He sounded sorry, but not too much, and turned back to his conversation with Carl and Wesley. I took the plate over to the compost container and slid the food in.

The group moved on from tormenting Bunsen and Beaker to a game of Monopoly. The cabin quieted down.

Later, Todd came in and read to us. It was this old book with a long t.i.tle by some author named Edgar Poe from, like, two hundred fifty years ago. It was apparently a cabin tradition, and it was weird, being read to, like we were innocent children instead of a bunch of savages, but it was also maybe cool, 'cause you could just lie there and picture the words, or not. It had seemed like it would be kind of a boring book, but then the main character, named Pym, was almost getting killed every chapter. He and the other two survivors on this lost boat were just deciding which of them they were going to cannibalize when I started to doze off.

I closed my eyes and felt the faint twinge of the strange wounds on my neck. They weren't burning anymore. No pain since the shower, just a slight hum. Why had water made them feel better, when Dr. Maria had said to stay away from it?

Soon the cabin buzzed with slumber, light snores and heavy breaths, and as I drifted off to sleep, I thought of Lilly's words. No matter what happens... No matter what happens... Maybe this, these weird wounds, was what Lilly had meant. Maybe she was the one I needed to talk to. Maybe this, these weird wounds, was what Lilly had meant. Maybe she was the one I needed to talk to.

Chapter 4

WE WOKE THE NEXT MORNING TO THE REVEILLE horn. It was a recorded trumpet sound, hissing from speakers in the trees. My wounds had awakened me a few times in the night, sizzling lightly, then calming down. In between, my dreams had been strange, dark, full of water and blood, the kind of dreams where you were convinced they were real the whole time, and yet I couldn't remember any specifics, and so I just felt slow and fuzzy as everyone hopped up around me. The wounds were humming faintly now, not bad, just a p.r.i.c.kling reminder that they were there. horn. It was a recorded trumpet sound, hissing from speakers in the trees. My wounds had awakened me a few times in the night, sizzling lightly, then calming down. In between, my dreams had been strange, dark, full of water and blood, the kind of dreams where you were convinced they were real the whole time, and yet I couldn't remember any specifics, and so I just felt slow and fuzzy as everyone hopped up around me. The wounds were humming faintly now, not bad, just a p.r.i.c.kling reminder that they were there.

Todd came in, wearing boxers and a dark-gray Camp Eden T-s.h.i.+rt with the sleeves cut off. "Good morning, ladies," he said, stretching like he was giving us a furry armpit show. "We leave for flagpole in ten minutes."

That was enough time for everyone to get dressed and for Jalen to run over to Beaker. "Wake-up wedgie!" he shouted like he was half our age, and yanked Beaker off the ground.

"Everybody make sure to put this on," said Todd, reappearing and pa.s.sing around a stiff plastic bottle of NoRad lotion. "Arms, legs, face, and neck."

"Don't forget your b.a.l.l.s!" said Leech. "Can't be too careful." He looked toward Bunsen, Beaker, and me. "You guys probably don't need to worry." He and Mike slapped hands.

"Okay, enough," said Todd, but I saw him smiling a little.

I slipped my pullover carefully over my neck. It didn't quite zip over the bandages. When the bottle got to me, I rubbed the greasy, metallic paste onto my face, my hands, and my ears. It always tingled a little as it sank in, and you heard rumors that it was bad for you in its own way, but I'd seen the effects of extreme UV radiation out at Yellowstone: the purple melanomas etched into boiled skin, the whites of eyes burned brown, the lost fingers and noses. Apparently, there were regions of the world-in some of the Habitable Zone, a pocket over central Asia, parts of the Pacific-where the ozone layer was still thick enough that you could step outside without any kind of NoRad, at least for a few minutes. It hadn't been like that anywhere near Hub for over fifty years, though.

We trudged out the side door and followed Todd toward the flagpole at the edge of the playing fields, where we met before each meal for announcements. On the way out, I noticed that Beaker's blanket and sheets were still lying in the dirt. He'd apparently decided it was easier to just sleep without them.

We filed down the path, and I ended up walking next to Xane. "So, dude," he asked me, "what was it like?"

Xane was from a place called Taipei, which had submerged in the Rise. The People's Corporation of China had refused most of the refugees, so his parents had gotten him into Eden as a Cryo. I'd heard that when you were accepted as a Cryo, Eden got to choose which center you'd be placed in, based on s.p.a.ce, so he ended up here instead of EdenEast. Xane's parents, and most of the Taiwanese, had emigrated to c.o.ke-Sahel, which was formed when the Coca-Cola company merged with Walmart and then purchased twelve West African countries. Even now, they were constantly advertising out at Hub for new employee-citizens.

"What," I replied, "drowning?" I tried to remember. "It hurt, until I blacked out."

"No, not that." Xane turned and slapped me on the shoulder. "Getting mouth-to-mouth from Lilly. That's what I'm talking aBOUT." Xane always did that, making the second half of a word really loud.

"Oh." This was a chance, I guessed, to earn some points. I could talk it up, and everyone in my cabin would think it was awesome. They were all trying to flirt with the oldest girls' cabin, the Arctic Foxes, but n.o.body was getting anywhere, and here I was, having had actual lip contact, though not for the right reasons. But apparently it counted. Still, the thought of talking about that, of bragging about it or whatever, just made me want to be silent instead.

Luckily, I could answer Xane's question with the truth: "All I remember is waking up and throwing up."

"Wow," Xane sighed. "That's sad. A girl sucked your face and you don't even reMEMber."

Noah heard this and turned around. "I would totally drown to get mouth-to-mouth from Lilly. She's HiRad for sure."

"Easy, too," added Leech. "She gets down with all the CIT guys is what I hear."

"Duude," said Xane softly, like he was imagining this. "Owen, man, you must have gotten some swEET views when she was all bending over you saving your life and all that." He started sliding his hands up and down through the air, drawing idealized girl shapes.

"Look, I drowned," I snapped. "It wasn't a turn-on, so forget it." The truth was obviously different: not that drowning was a turn-on, but that Lilly was, and that I'd definitely had all kinds of thoughts like that, though the part about her and other CITs was hard to hear, and it just reminded me once again that someone like me was not going to have a shot with someone like her.

Leech's freckled face squinted at me. He shook his head slowly. "What a waste."

We got to flagpole and sat on a long bench made from half a tree trunk. We were in the last row. Behind us, a short hill rose to the tall gla.s.s windows of the dining hall. All the campers were there, except the CITs, who didn't have to do kids' stuff like this. The activities coordinator, a lady named Claudia who wore a camp sweats.h.i.+rt over her wide body and khaki shorts that showed off her purple-coated knees, welcomed us and then said good morning to each cabin. When she said it, each cabin had to say some kind of cheer. The littlest kids took it really seriously, but then the effort faded with age, with a huge drop-off when it finally got to us.

"And good morning, Spotted Hyenas!"

Groans and sighs. We couldn't have hated this more. Todd's idea for a cheer had been "Sssssneak attack!" because today we were playing capture the flag. It trickled out of our mouths in a sad mumble.

"Okay," said Claudia with obvious disappointment. "And goood morning, Arctic Foxes!"

"Balance!" half the Foxes shouted in eerie female unison.