The Rebel Code

Epilogue

Forty-seven floors down, where the city rises up to meet the towering Johannesburg Mall, there is a depot full of trucks. They go in and out like the tide, taking deliveries of food and essentials to the mall's big steel receiving doors, and leaving with outbound deliveries.

Across the asphalt, by one of the gates, there's a silver truck with big tires. It's an electronics truck, designed to transport service androids and parts to provinces with less tech support. The driver leans against the doors, looking around as he takes a long drag from a cigarette. He checks the time on his ProtoBand, frowning as he blows a cloud of smoke. It's getting late, and he's beginning to wonder when his most important cargo will arrive, or whether it will arrive at all.

Just as the sun begins to kiss the horizon in a bright burst of orange and red, and the evening's last deliveries are pulling out of the gates, he hears a shrill whistle and looks up to see a man waving at him, a full messenger bag over his shoulder. The driver gives him a thumbs-up signal and pats the truck.

They move quickly, unseen by the officers guarding the depot and the security androids patrolling the gates. The driver and the man take turns hoisting bags into the back of the truck. Then the man whistles again, and his companions follow closely behind, climbing in among android charging ports and still, unactivated metal skeletons. The doors close, and the engine rumbles to life, all cargo lurching as the truck pulls out of the lot and drives to the gates. The driver shows a security pass, and the guards wave him through. He is the last delivery of the day, outbound to Maseru, the Mountain Province.

A voice crackles over the truck's radio. We're through. Next stop, the safehouse.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

"You guys look ready to get out of here," says John, teasing us as he gets comfortable on the floor of the truck.

"You think?" exclaims Larry, and we all burst out laughing.

"I don't know about you guys," says Mo, stretching her legs, "but as soon as I'm at that safehouse, I'm changing my name to something awesome. Something like Charisma, or Queen. And I'm going to get another ear piercing when we move in. I've earned it, and I'm going to treat myself."

John turns to me. "How about you, Jenny? Any major modifications I need to know about? Don't tell me you're going to pierce your belly button or anything. We'll have that talk later."

I shake my head, grinning. Honestly, I don't care about my name all that much. I don't care if it's Jenny or Jennifer or anything completely different. I'm always going to be me. A new name won't change that.

"I'm keeping Jenny," I finally say. "I like the sound."

Link leans against the wall, closing his eyes like he's finally in the mood to rest. It's not a bad idea. We have a good four-hour drive to the rural safehouse, and another hour to Maseru. But this is one trip I don't mind taking. We could go to Maseru, or Johannesburg, or all the way back to Cape Town for all I care. We can handle it. We've handled worse.I lean into Larry and rest my head on his shoulder, intertwining our fingers.

"Bekker," calls our driver from the front of the truck. "I need you to give me a hand with the navigation, bra."

John rolls his eyes, making me giggle, and stands up. Before he goes to the front, he pauses for a moment and turns around to look at all of us sitting here. He smiles, more than a little proudly, looking from me to Larry to Mo to Link, and even at Atticus, who's powered off for the journey.

"This," he says finally, "is going to take a killer story to explain."

But I don't feel scared, because we've done it before. It's what we do. We run, we reinvent ourselves, and we can do it again and again. We survive.

And we're going to keep surviving until we win.

The End