“What do you mean?” Rita Mae said. “Lift the bar and pull that gate open. That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”
“Can’t do that. Mayor says he’s got to stay inside the city walls.”
I strode toward the gate, figuring I’d just climb over it. One of the guards sidestepped, putting himself in my path. I butted chests with him-the top of my head barely reached his neck.
“What right do you have to keep him here? Get out of his way and open the gate this instant, Roger Thornton!”
“Orders are orders,” he replied. “I can open the gate and let you out, Miz Rita. Heck, with how much you fuss with the mayor, I might not be allowed to let you back in. But if he tries to leave, I’ve got to stop him.”
“We’ll just see about that,” Rita Mae muttered. She yanked on my right arm, clearly forgetting about the gunshot wound.
“Easy. That hurts,” I hissed under my breath.
“Sorry. Let’s go talk some sense into Kenda.”
The leisurely pace Rita Mae had set in reaching the gate was now replaced with a walk so brisk I had to jog to keep up, the pack thumping rhythmically against my back. We crashed through the reception room at City Hall and barged into the mayor’s office without knocking.
“What is this nonsense about imprisoning this young fellow who’s done us no harm?” Rita Mae yelled. “In fact, he’s done us considerable good by bringing those kale seeds.”
“Rita Mae, he’s just a kid,” Mayor Kenda replied.
“I’m sixteen,” I said.
“Exactly. How can I in good conscience let you go wandering around in that mess outside? You’re going to get killed.”
“How can you in good conscience keep him locked inside the city?” Rita Mae retorted. “How are we any better than those FEMA goons locking people into their refugee camps, if we do the same thing?”
“He’s a child, Rita Mae,” Kenda yelled. “Without children we don’t have any future.”
“Without freedom,” Rita Mae yelled back, “why would we want a future?”
“Look,” I said, trying to alleviate the shouting match, “can we-”
“Come on.” Rita Mae grabbed my arm and towed me out of the mayor’s office. She slammed the door so hard the whole wall shook.
She led me back to her house, muttering all the way about “damn bureaucrats” and “interfering do-gooders.”
“I’ve got to get out of here.”
“I know. I’m making a plan.”
“What?” I asked as we stepped into her living room. I hoped it was a good plan-I didn’t really relish a sixteen-foot drop off the outside of the icy wall.
“Never mind that. Help me untie this clothesline.”
A nylon rope was tied just above head height in Rita Mae’s living room, zigzagging five or six times in front of the fire. Rita Mae started taking clothespins off the line while I struggled with the knots. “You know, I have rope in my pack.”
“You might need that later. Best we use mine for this.”
“Won’t the guards see us? I don’t want to wait ’til dark.”
“You let me worry about that.”
I shrugged and got back to work on the knots. When we finished, we had a coil of good nylon rope about fifty feet long. Rita Mae led me out of the house and to the southeast corner of town, out of sight of the south gate.
The ice wall ran right through the backyard of a one-story house. A path led to a staircase carved on the inside of the wall. Not far from the staircase a man lay atop the wall, scanning the horizon through his rifle sight.
Rita Mae pushed through the deep snow near the base of the staircase, whispering, “It was here somewhere. I know it was.” After a minute or two of that, she gestured for me to join her and started digging in the snow. I helped her uncover a hidden tree stump. Rita Mae tied one end of her rope around the stump and tugged hard on it, making sure it was secure.
“Now, when the time is right,” she whispered, “you run up those steps and use the rope to lower yourself down the far side of the ice wall.”
“But the guard-”
“I’ll handle him. Now get your skis and poles secure in one arm so you can manage the rope with the other. And Alex. .”
I paused in my preparations. “Yeah?”
“Take care of yourself.” Rita Mae pulled me into a hug.
I nodded, but the lump in my throat prevented me from saying anything. I fought down sudden tears.
The guard still hadn’t noticed us-his attention was focused completely on the world outside the ice wall. Rita Mae released me and tiptoed up the steps. When she reached the top of the wall, she took a step toward him, and he startled, swinging toward her, his rifle at the ready.
“Rita Mae! Don’t go sneaking up on me like that. I could have shot you!”
“You’re more of a danger to yourself than to me with that rifle. Now Mr. Chapman, I have important business to take up with you.” Rita Mae’s voice was laden with disapprobation.
“Well then, get your fool head down while you conduct whatever your business is,” Chapman said. “You’re liable to get shot standing up here like that.”
Rita Mae stepped over Chapman and crouched on his far side, so to face her he was forced to roll over and put his back toward the staircase.
I took that as my cue. Paying out rope from one hand, I crept to the base of the ice stairs.
“Mr. Chapman, you checked out a copy of Gone eighteen days ago. As you are no doubt well aware, checkout periods for fiction have been reduced to two weeks for the duration of the emergency.”
“Jesus, is that what you came all the way up here for? I’m on duty! Besides, I returned that book last week.”
I moved up the steps as fast and quietly as I could. They were slick, and my hands were fully occupied.
“My records clearly indicate that Gone has not been returned to the collection.”
“Well your records are wrong, Rita Mae.”
“Librarians never make mistakes, Mr. Chapman. Now I must insist that you-”
While they argued, I reached the top of the wall. It was at least eight feet wide and sloped slightly back toward the town. I stood at the outer edge and stared over the brink. Sixteen feet doesn’t sound like much, but from where I stood it seemed like a long drop. I dropped the rest of the rope over the side. The slap of the rope hitting the ground drew Chapman’s attention. He rolled back toward me. “Hey, you! Stop!”
It was now or never. I grabbed the rope, scrunched my eyes closed, and stepped off the edge. I fell sickeningly at first, but then the rope went taut and caught me with a jerk that threatened to tear my left arm out of its socket. I eased my grip on the rope and let it slide slowly through my glove. In seconds, I felt snow under my feet.
When I opened my eyes and looked up, Chapman was standing atop the wall, aiming his rifle at me. Rita Mae grabbed the barrel of the rifle and pushed it upward, so it aimed at the horizon instead of my head.
“What are you thinking, aiming a rifle at that boy? We can’t go shooting our friends.”
Chapman sighed so heavily I could hear it at the base of the wall. “There never was any problem with any overdue library book, was there?”
“Of course not. Although I do have the sequel for you. We can stop at the library and get it on our way to the mayor’s office. You do want to turn me in to Kenda for insubordination or some such, don’t you?”
“Not really. But I have to.”
I’d gotten snapped into my skis while they talked. Now I looked up and called, “Thanks, Rita Mae.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied. “You be careful, you hear? I’d like to see you again-to know you made it.”
“I’ll be careful. And I’ll visit again if I can.” I turned my skis south toward Cascade and pushed off, sliding away from the safety and confinement of Worthington’s wall.