No Passengers Beyond This Point(49)

“The no passengers beyond this point ruling limits our exposure, which is better for everyone.”

“No passengers beyond this point,” I echo. “What does that mean?”

“It means that most of Falling Bird is off limits to you until you become a citizen with a permanent passport. That way our residents have some protection.”

“From us?”

She nods, scratching her short white hair with its pink scalp showing. “But we try to treat passengers fairly. We received a Form six-twenty-one on you. Contesting our ruling on your placement in Passengers Waiting. Ordinarily we might have ignored this, but since it came from Chuck—we all really like Chuck, you see?”

“Yes.”

“So we need to know . . . did you make this decision of your own free will?”

My hands are shaking. I remember the path with the light that suddenly appeared. It was so enticing. But I wanted it too. I did. Was it my own free will? This isn’t a black-and-white answer. Should I lie about this? What would my mom do? What would Maddy do? Maddy would lie, that’s for sure.

“Yes, I chose,” I whisper.

“All right then.” Mary Carol nods encouragingly and pushes a button on the wall.

“Yes?” the voice asks.

“Send him in,” Mary Carol requests.

A moment later the door slides open and a security dude with ears shaped like pork chops appears. Boris, it says on his cloud patch. Behind him is Chuck outfitted in an all-white flight suit.

Chuck smiles at me, though he is so nervous the smile is more of a tic.

“India?” Mary Carol asks pointedly. “Tell him what you told me.”

I stare at him, suddenly so cold I’m shivering. He’ll know if I gave the right answer. “I decided,” I croak, scanning his eyes for a response.

Mary Carol nods her head like I should go on. “You decided what, India?”

“To stay here,” I say. I feel a little more like myself saying this. It’s as if speaking these words gives me back a flicker of the power I felt fighting for my screen in the waiting room. I’m not a victim. I told the truth just as I saw it, even if it will get me in trouble.

Boris motions for Mary Carol to step outside, to talk about something. Mary Carol shakes her head. I’m guessing leaving me alone with Chuck is against regulations.

“Oh for goodness’ sake, Mary Carol. Chuck will come too,” Boris says.

Mary Carol nods reluctantly, and the three of them leave me alone in the chrome-plated room.

When they come back, Mary Carol is smiling. “Congratulations, India. You’ve earned your welcomer job back,” she announces.

“Okay, you did your bit, Chucko, time to go.” Boris flaps his hand at the Chuckinator.

Chuck nods, but there’s something he wants to tell me. His eyes contain a whole conversation he can’t express. “Mouse wanted me to give you this.” He hands me my dad’s old brown wallet—now Bing’s.

Bing’s wallet is always with Bing. Bing is always with Mouse. It’s not possible that this wallet is here with me and Mouse is not. If she’s given me Bing’s wallet, she’s given me Bing.

Nobody could make her do that. She had to want to herself.

I want to open the wallet, but not in front of them. I slip it into my pocket as I overhear Mary Carol whisper to Boris, “You checked it, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thanks,” I tell Chuck, as if this is no big deal.

He nods, his eyes on me. This time he allows Boris to hustle him outside.

Mary Carol snaps the chairs back up into the wall, closes the soda drawer and the snack drawer. The room is a sleek silver rectangle again—with no trace of the way it was with us in it. “All righty then,” she says, holding the door open for me.





CHAPTER 28

BOOM

On the other side of the doggy door, my eyes adjust slowly to the dark tunnel light. The colors are different here: every shade of brown, but no bright colors, nothing vibrant.

The passageway is expertly dug and surprisingly clean, though it’s made of dirt. There’s a sheen to the tunnel walls, a deep brown glow—as if the dirt has been polished. Not much space down here though. The tunnel is just dog-size—no way for us to move through except on our hands and knees, which is hard on Mouse since she can’t use one of her arms.

When we get some distance from the tunnel dogs— far enough that it feels safe to whisper—we stop and regroup.

Mouse watches me as I pull out my clock. “We can’t leave without the dog, no matter what time it is,” Mouse insists. “Chuck said.”

“He didn’t say we had to. He said it would be helpful.”