Children of the Uprising Read online

  When Donald neared his target, he lifted his rifle and aimed it at the red hair. He had no desire to play the action hero. He had no witty remarks planned. He wasn’t about to trade safety for glory. Still, he had convinced himself that he was chasing the Child. He had become certain that beneath that red wig, he would see the face of the boy in the pictures. Donald didn’t care what Christopher saw before he pulled the trigger. He didn’t care about making an impression. He only wanted to confirm that this was the Child. He wanted to be sure that he should be proud of what he was doing before he pulled the trigger. Donald took one more step toward the fallen rebel, who had managed to get to one knee and was almost ready to stand. Look at me, Donald thought to himself, staring only at the red hair. Then, suddenly, Donald’s gun was gone. His hands were empty. He looked up. The dark-haired boy had come back. He had pulled the gun out of Donald’s hands and was now standing in front of him. A flickering hell of shadows danced across the boy’s face, reflecting the giant fire that was burning higher and higher behind Donald. Donald got two swings in, first with his right hand and then with his left. The boy wasted no energy stepping out the way of each swing. Donald’s hand barely missed the boy, never coming close to doing any damage. Then Donald was on the ground, as if pulled there. Then he felt pain. Then he saw darkness. Then nothing.

  Addy didn’t give Evan a moment to think about what he’d done. She didn’t give him a moment to think about anything. Instead, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him. She pulled him away from the body of the policeman he had killed. She pulled him away from the fire. She pulled him away from the screaming and the gunshots. All the while, Evan thought about nothing and let himself be pulled wherever Addy was taking him.

  Thirty-two

  Christopher thought that Brian was taking him back to the compound in Florida. They’d been driving for a long time. Christopher began to feel like that was all his life had become. A series of long drives interspersed with moments of intense violence. Brian wasn’t taking Christopher to the compound in Florida, though. Reggie had left the compound as soon as he got word that Christopher was coming to meet him.

  “Where are we?” Christopher asked Brian as they sped across a long, straight road cutting through an endless sea of pine trees.

  “New Jersey,” Brian answered. Christopher knew that he hadn’t been paying attention to where they were going, but he hadn’t realized how far off course they’d veered from the destination in his head. He’d been distracted by thoughts about Addy and Evan. Even though he tried not to be, he’d been distracted by thoughts about how long it had been since he’d spoken to his parents. Then, even when he was able to stop thinking, images of the dead kept flashing through his head—the men who had come for him in the woods in Maine, Max and the others in Canada, the man he shot outside of Death Valley, the man Addy shot after he realized who Christopher was.

  “This is New Jersey?” Christopher asked, staring out the window at the endless rows of trees. He felt like he should be surprised, but it was getting more and more difficult to surprise him.

  “Yeah.”

  “It looks like Maine,” Christopher said.

  “Do you want to know where I’m taking you?” Brian asked.

  The trees whizzed by them. “I think I know where we’re going,” Christopher said. Reggie was bringing him back to the place on the Jersey Shore where his father used to come when he was Christopher’s age. “Isn’t this dangerous? Won’t they be looking for me here?”

  “Everywhere is dangerous. Reggie had some business he needed to take care of nearby. We think you’re as safe here as anywhere.”

  “That’s not the most enthusiastic endorsement I’ve ever heard.”

  “Trust us, Christopher. We have no interest in making any more martyrs.”

  “I guess that’s good. At least we’ve all got something in common.” Christopher tried to laugh. “Did you leave the War because of what they did to my father?”

  Brian didn’t take his eyes off the road. “No. I left the War because I was pretty sure they were going to kill me.”

  “Why were they going to kill you?”

  “They thought I was a spy.”

  “Were you?”

  “No. I wasn’t perfect, but I wasn’t a spy. They’ve only got themselves to blame for turning me into what I am now.”

  “But you tried to help my father when he was on the run?”

  Brian glanced quickly at Christopher and then returned his attention to the road. “Like I said, I wasn’t perfect, but trying to help a friend isn’t the same thing as being a spy.”

  “I might not even be here if it wasn’t for you.” Christopher said the words as much to himself as to Brian. “If they’d gotten to my father earlier, my mother never would have learned what she needed to get me back. My father would have died a loser instead of a hero. And I would be just one more kid in the War who didn’t know any better than believing that he was good and the people he was fighting were evil. If it wasn’t for you, nobody would care who I was.”

  “Would you like that better?” Brian asked Christopher

  Christopher didn’t know what he was supposed to say. He wondered if the question was some sort of test. “We almost there?” he asked instead of answering.

  “About another hour and a half,” Brian told him.

  Christopher watched the trees buzz by, barely able to pick one out from the rest. “And Reggie will be waiting for us when we get there?”

  “Yeah,” Brian confirmed.

  Reggie hung up the phone and stared out the window at the boats floating in the harbor. The wind was blowing across the harbor, causing the boats to rock back and forth as they bounced on the waves. This place had history. Reggie had been assured that meeting Christopher on this island would be safe. If he couldn’t trust the people who gave him those assurances, then he and Christopher weren’t going to make it very far anyway. It was a risk, but Reggie thought the history was important. He wanted Christopher to feel connected. Christopher’s father used to come here with his friends, both the one that killed him and the one that died trying to find Christopher. This little island was the place where Christopher’s father got it in his head that loyalty to the people who cared about him was more important than fealty to the rules. This little island was the place where Michael brought Christopher’s mother and where Christopher’s mother figured out what she needed to do if she was going to find Christopher and save him. Now this tiny island was the place where Reggie planned to enlist Christopher in a crazy scheme that would drag the two of them around the world, clinging to the hope that Christopher could do one thing that no one else could do.

  It was beginning to get dark outside, but Reggie didn’t bother turning on the lights. He took pleasure in the coming darkness. He found it soothing. He picked up the phone again and dialed. The crazy plan that they’d hatched wasn’t Reggie’s plan, not in the beginning anyway. He guessed it was his now. He owned it now, having purchased it with hundreds of phone calls and thousands of promises. He had to own it—completely, totally—if he was going to sell it to others. Reggie supposed that was how it always worked. He supposed that nobody ever did anything this big by themselves. Everybody was a cog in a machine, but if you pull out any one of the cogs the whole machine is not going to work anymore. After three rings, somebody answered the phone at the other end of the line. Reggie recognized the woman’s voice.

  “He’s on his way,” Reggie told the woman. “How is the schedule coming, Annie?”

  “As well as can be expected,” Annie replied. “Are you sure that you guys are going to be ready to leave tomorrow?”

  “We better be,” Reggie answered. “After all this, I don’t see how any good is going to come from waiting any longer.” Not here anyway, Reggie thought as he watched an old fishing boat pull into the harbor, barely beating nightfall. “Where are we going first?”r />
  “Singapore,” Annie said. “Only I don’t know where you’re going from there. They wouldn’t tell me. They only told me that someone would be meeting you at the airport.”

  “That’s it? I suppose they expect us to trust the first guy who comes to pick us up?” Reggie had them walking a tightrope over a sea full of sharks. Sometimes Reggie doubted his ability to manage it all.

  “I’m still working on getting more details,” Annie said apologetically.

  “And our papers? How are we going to get our papers?”

  “I’m working on that too. We’re going to be sending a car to pick you guys up tomorrow. The driver should have your papers. If he doesn’t, then they’ll be at the airport.”

  “I feel like I could be walking the kid into a giant mess here, Annie.”

  “Just try to concentrate on Singapore. That’s all we can do for now.” Annie sounded as tired as Reggie felt. They’d already been working hard on the plan and it hadn’t even started yet.

  “You hear any more news about California?” Reggie asked. It was the last question Reggie’d been asking everybody ever since he heard the news. He knew that Christopher was still in the dark. Brian had made sure that Christopher didn’t get any news about the raid and its casualties. He kept the car radio off and watched whenever Christopher checked his phone. Reggie wasn’t going to tell Christopher anything either, not unless he was forced to. Reggie knew that he was going to have to get Christopher to abandon his phone. Nothing good would come of Christopher being connected to the world.

  “Nothing new,” Annie said. “It’s hard to tell the difference between facts, rumors, and lies.”

  “It always is.” Reggie had seen Evan’s picture on the news like everybody else, but none of them really knew who Evan was or how important he was to Christopher. Reggie was just happy that someone survived the raid. He believed deep down that if anyone had survived the raid, Addy might have survived it too. Reggie had already lost Max. He had to believe that Addy was still alive. He was so tired of all of it. One last hurrah, he thought to himself. It wasn’t only that he was tired, though. Reggie had given Addy a job. He didn’t want to think that he gave such an important job to a ghost. If he was going to break a promise to the woman who had saved his life, the least he could do was tell her about his broken promise. Reggie tried to think about whether he had any more questions for Annie. “Thanks, Annie,” Reggie said when he couldn’t think of any. “Be careful out there.”

  “You too, Reggie. I’ll e-mail you when I have more details.”

  Annie hung up and Reggie sat there, alone again, still staring out the window. He barely moved. He’d been sitting at the desk for almost three hours without getting up. He wondered who else he could call that might know something about California, but he worried about spreading himself too thin. Besides, he couldn’t think of anybody who was more plugged in than Annie. Reggie had to make one more phone call before Christopher arrived. After that he could rest. He picked up the phone and dialed George’s number.

  George answered on the second ring. “George, it’s Reggie. How are things?”

  “Quiet,” George answered. Reggie listened to see if he could hear the noises of the compound behind George, but it really was quiet. “What’s going on?”

  “Christopher’s on his way,” Reggie said.

  “That’s great,” George said. “That’s what we all were hoping for.” Even though the words were true, they couldn’t hide the fear in George’s voice. George knew what the words meant.

  “There’s a letter in the top drawer of my desk,” Reggie said. “When you find Addy, give it to her.”

  “And what if we don’t find her?” George asked because he felt like he had to.

  “It’s only for Addy,” Reggie said and let that subject die. A moment of silence passed, each of them waiting for the other to speak. “Are you guys ready?” Reggie finally asked when he was sure that George wasn’t going to say anything.

  “Are you sure you want us to do this?”

  “Burn it down,” Reggie ordered him. George knew the plan. Reggie knew that George still needed to hear the words. All of them knew that Reggie wanted the compound razed so they wouldn’t have to worry about leaving behind clues about where they had hidden any of the hundreds of people that they had helped escape from the War. That wasn’t the whole story, though. Reggie also wanted the compound razed because he didn’t want to battle the temptation to go back. If Christopher was going to come to him, Reggie needed to be willing to go all in. He had to believe in the plan completely or it would be doomed to failure.

  “You’re sure?” George asked again.

  Reggie understood George’s hesitation. Once they burned the compound down, none of them would have anywhere else to go. That was part of the plan too. Nobody was allowed to be comfortable. Rebellion wasn’t comfortable. “Can you handle this, George, or do I need to talk to Sam?”

  “I can handle it,” George told him.

  “Good luck, George,” Reggie said to his old friend and colleague. “I hope to see you when I get back.” Reggie didn’t wait for George to respond. He didn’t want to hear George wish him luck too. Reggie had too many balls in the air for luck to do any good. Either he would figure out how to catch them all or they’d scatter to the ground. After hanging up the phone, Reggie finally stood up from the desk. He stretched the muscles in his shoulders and walked to the window. There, Reggie watched the darkening sky and waited for the sound of Brian’s car.

  Thirty-three

  The first shots came before they even got off the boat. They hadn’t expected that. At first they simply heard whistling noises and saw the rings in the water, as if it was beginning to rain. Then Sokhem got hit by a bullet and let out a scream before falling over the rail into the river. Sokhem had been sitting up at the front of the boat, hoping to be one of the first men off, hoping to be one of the first men to reach the Intelligence Center. He had dreamt of being a hero. He had dreamt of telling his grandchildren stories about his bravery, about how he led the charge that ended the War. The others had to jump over his floating body to get into the water and avoid the onslaught of bullets.

  It was nearly one o’clock when they saw the first bullet hit the water. They were almost an hour and a half behind schedule. They hadn’t expected to encounter any resistance until they were on the ground and approaching the Intelligence Center, but the people in the Intelligence Center were ready for them. Maybe it was because they were late. That would be better than the alternative—that there was a traitor among them. If they had a traitor among them, it would have all but guaranteed all of their deaths.

  They were late because, despite the recent rains, the Sangker River was lower in spots than they’d expected. Twice, more than half of the twenty-three occupants of the boat had to jump into the water and swim beside the boat to keep it from running aground in the mud. Once, the men who’d jumped into the water had to pull the boat loose to get it moving again. It wasn’t until they hit Tonle Sap Lake that the ride became easy. By then, they’d lost too much time to make up.

  Sun Same had been the first man in the water when the boat hit the muddy bed of the Sangker River. The others laughed and cheered him on when he jumped in. Spirits were high. Sun Same worried that the others didn’t realize what it might mean if they were late. Failure by any one of the groups could ruin everything. Sun Same didn’t want Cambodia to fail. “Come on!” he shouted to the others. “We must free the boat! Jump with me!” Heng was the second man in the water. He left his gun on the bottom of the boat and jumped in. Tep followed him. Serey was the first of the nine women to jump into the water. Once she jumped, they kept coming until enough weight was off the boat for it to float again.

  “Hurray for Sun, the hero!” Serey called out when the boat started drifting again. She flashed him a smile and he immediately forgave her for any intended sarcas
m. Those in the water swam alongside the boat, lifting their feet to avoid kicking the mud as they swam. A group of boys, heading with a net to their favorite fishing spot, paddled past them. The youngest of the three boys, who could have been no more than five years old, pointed at the men and women swimming next to the boat and laughed. They were probably brothers—the three boys in their small boat. The boys had no way of knowing about the arsenal of weapons that the targets of their ridicule carried on their boat. They had no way of knowing that it was the weight of these weapons as much as the weight of the passengers that had caused the boat to run aground. If the boat had been carrying only the passengers, it would have cleared the muddy bottom with ease. It wasn’t only the weight of the guns that got them stuck. It was the weight of the explosives too, explosives pieced together from new electronics and old land mines. The rebels knew how to account for the weight of the people. Nearly half of them had grown up on this river and the lake that it fed into. They were Cambodia’s river people. Some of them had learned to swim before they learned to walk. Three of them had never been in a car before, only boats and scooters. Yet the War still found them and wouldn’t let them go—not without a fight anyway.

  Sun Same swam through the river next to the boat. Narith, the boat’s captain, moved it slowly through the shallow water, knowing that a fast beaching could take hours to undo. Sun watched their surroundings as they floated by: the green leaves from the trees, the smaller boats of blue, red, and brown, the floating houses, the houses built on bamboo stilts. Every child that they passed waved to them. Every old man and woman brought their hands together in front of their chest as if to pray and bowed their head. Sun and Narith had promised Apsara, who was coordinating the Asian attacks, that the boat trip would take less than six hours. They believed that they were being conservative. The trip would take only four hours during the height of the rainy season. Now, though, six hours no longer seemed to be enough time. Sun wondered what would happen if they were late. He wondered what would happen if all of the attacks weren’t exactly coordinated. Then he tried to stop thinking about it. Turning back was not an option. They had their guns and their bombs and their hope, and that had to be enough.