The Rebel Code

Chapter Sixteen

It takes all morning to wash the filthy lake smell out of my hair. I'm under the shower for hours, scrubbing and scrubbing until I'm certain I can't smell it, and all that's left is aching skin and cucumber-scented bubbles. Then I get dressed, brush my teeth, and feel remarkably normal. It's like there's a wall in my brain that won't let me remember much of last night. There are a few vague images, and the feelings, but large parts of what happened are gone. It's like it all happened in seconds, in the blink of an eye.

It's not until I stroll to the kitchen to make myself a bowl of cereal that I receive a frightening reminder in the form of Captain Link, who is still on our couch. The lake smell is still thick in there, mixed with the medical alcohol, and I have to eat my breakfast elsewhere before the memories start coming back. I can still feel the disgusting water filling my mouth and burning my lungs.

Natcha's here now, with her morning classes over. She talks in hushed tones with John, and I'm not sure if they're talking about me or Link. Phichai is still here, but has to leave soon for work. I don't think John slept last night.

When Phichai leaves, he puts the trauma kit on the table and gives John detailed instructions. Apparently, Link is responsive but not totally alert, and has been complaining of a headache. Phichai seems uneasy. John seems tense. They talk for a while, and John finally sees Natcha and her brother out the door. When they're gone, I watch him against the living room door frame and sigh, resting the back of his head against the wall. I finish washing my dishes and go up to him, leaning my head on his shoulder. He puts an arm around me, squeezing gently, with a hint of exhaustion in the slow movement.

"If he lives," I whisper, "he's going to turn us in. All of this will have been for nothing."

"No," says John calmly. "He won't."

"What do you mean?"

"He won't turn us in," he repeats.

"You don't know that."

John shakes his head weakly. "Trust me, Jenny. I wouldn't do anything if I thought there was any chance of putting my family in danger. You have to trust me on this one."

"Why'd you save him?" I ask, following his gaze into the living room, where the person in question is sleeping on the couch. "If you'd just left him, we'd have nothing to worry about."

I already know the answer, but it's the strangest thing. I can't put it to words. When I ask myself why, all that's there is a feeling. I only ask John because maybe he, with all his experience, knows the words I can't find.

"Call it a rebellion," he says, after a long, thoughtful pause.

"I don't understand."

"We're freeboots, right? That's what we do. We rebel," he says. "When Criterion tells us to focus all our energy into serving the state, we turn and we serve each other. Captain Al-Marri isn't a piece of machinery, Jenny. He's a person. It's my job to take care of people."

"Not people who try to shoot you," I point out.

"Why don't you go find your sister and ask what she wants for lunch," he suggests dismissively. "I'll get whatever you guys want."

It's a unanimous vote for Chinese, and John makes a quick trip down to the shop on the corner while Natcha stays with us, helping me solve some more complex code puzzles John gave me to figure out. But whenever I start to relax and feel more normal, I remember Link. Even if he is passed out, his presence makes me uneasy. I try to avoid that living room as much as possible, but Mo and Natcha are brave enough to make up for me. Twice, I hear Mo go into the living room, gently wake up Link, and ask if he feels like eating yet, or if he wants water. Natcha even manages to get him to part with the dark coat that probably almost drowned him, and I get a glimpse of the shredded remains of that metal arm. But even in this state, with his shattered arm and bandaged skull, I still can't shake the nagging feeling that he's just biding his time, waiting to pounce and reveal us.