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"We're not perps," says Connor, "we're AWOLs."
"We're felons," says Lev. "Because what you're doing—I mean, what we're doing—is a federal crime."
"What, stealing clothes?" asks Connor.
"No, stealing ourselves. Once the unwind orders were signed, we all became government property. Kicking-AWOL makes us federal criminals."
It doesn't sit well with Risa, or for that matter with Connor, but they both shake it off.
This excursion into a populated area is dangerous but necessary. Perhaps as the morning goes on they can find a library where they can download maps and find themselves a wilderness large enough to get lost in for good. There are rumors of hidden communities of AWOL Unwinds. Maybe they can find one.
As they move cautiously through the neighborhood, a woman approaches them—just a girl, really, maybe nineteen or twenty. She walks fast, but she's walking funny, like she's got some injury or is recovering from one. Risa's certain she's going to see them and recognize them, but the girl passes without even making eye contact and hurries around a corner.
11 Connor
Exposed. Vulnerable. Connor wishes they could have stayed in the woods, but there are only so many acorns and berries he can eat. They'll find food in town. Food, and information.
"This is the best time not to be noticed," Connor tells the others. "Everyone's in a hurry in the morning. Late to work, or whatever."
Connor finds a newspaper in the bushes, misthrown by a delivery boy. "Look at this!" says Lev. "A newspaper. How retro is that?"
"Does it talk about us?" asks Lev. He says it like it's a good thing. The three of them scan the front page. The war in Australia, King politicians—the same old stuff. Connor turns the page clumsily. Its pages are large and awkward. They tear easily and catch the breeze like a kite, making it hard to read.
No mention of them on page two, or page three.
"Maybe it's an old newspaper," suggests Risa.
Connor checks the date on top. "No, it's today's." He fights against the breeze to turn the page. "Ah—there it is."
The headline reads, PILEUP ON INTERSTATE. It's a very small article. A morning car accident, blah-blah-blah, traffic snarled for hours, blah-blah-blah. The article mentions the dead bus driver, the fact that the road was closed for three hours. But nothing about them. Connor reads the last line of the article aloud.
"It is believed that police activity in the area may have distracted drivers, leading to the accident."
They're all dumbfounded. For Connor, there's a sense of relief—a sense of having gotten away with something huge.
"That can't be right," says Lev, "I was kidnapped, or . . . uh . . . at least they think I was. That should be in the news."
"Lev's right," says Risa. "They always have incidents with Unwinds in the news. If we're not in there, there's a reason."
Connor can't believe these two are looking this gift horse in the mouth! He speaks slowly as if to idiots. "No news report means no pictures—and that means people won't recognize us. I don't see why that's a problem."
Risa folds her arms. "Why are there no pictures?"
"I don't know—maybe the police are keeping it quiet because they don't want people to know they screwed up."
Risa shakes her head. "It doesn't feel right. . . ."
"Who cares how it feels!"
"Keep your voice down!" Risa says in an angry whisper. Connor fights to keep his temper under control. He doesn't say anything for fear he's going to start yelling again and draw attention to them. He can see Risa puzzling over the situation and Lev looking back and forth between the two of them. Risa's not stupid, thinks Connor. She's going to figure out that this is a good thing, and that she's worrying for nothing.
But instead, Risa says, "If we're never in the news, then who's going to know if we live or die? See—if it's all over the news that they're tracking us, then when they find us, they have to take us down with tranquilizer bullets and take us to be harvested, right?"
is bowled over. "You knew that?"
Connor looks at her, a bit amused. "Well . . . yeah."
If Risa felt uncertain about him before, it's even worse now. She has no idea what to think. "So . . . everything that happened back there was all a show?"
