Fractured by Teri Terry Page A

Lorders following me to them: they are better off missing me.
    Time to get to my reason for being here. ‘Are you involved with MIA?’
    ‘I’m more of a…relay, than anything else. Why?’
    ‘I was wondering something. Can you get Ben put on MIA?
    Mac stares back. He knows Ben’s story, more or less. Even if he doesn’t know my role in it. That Ben was taken off by Lorders. He must think it will be a waste of time, that there is nothing left of Ben to be found. He’s probably right.
    But he nods. ‘Of course. Have you got a photo?’
    I shake my head. ‘No. But I’ve got this,’ I say, and pull my drawing of Ben out of my pocket. I’d spent hours on it, making it as lifelike as possible. ‘Is it good enough?’
    He whistles. ‘It is more than good; it’s him. It’s perfect. But it’ll have to be scanned, and I haven’t got one here. I’ll get Aiden to do it. All right?’
    I force reaction from my face, hide dismay. ‘Thanks,’ is all I say. Mac’s friend, Aiden was the one whose stories of Slateds cutting off their Levos gave Ben the idea to try it in the first place. It was Aiden’s Happy Pills that made the attempt possible. Aiden was also the one who wanted me to report myself found on MIA, such a breach of the rules Slateds must live by that it would be a certain death sentence if Lorders found out. He wasn’t a terrorist, he said, but an activist: trying to change things in other ways.
    A no-hoper .
    Maybe. But at least he doesn’t kill people. Thinking of Robert earlier reminded me of all those students who died. Killed by stray AGT bombs meant for Lorders. I’d had nightmares of that bus attack when I first learned of it, but I couldn’t have been there! I was only ten years old when it happened.
    But Nico could have been.
    No. Nico would never do that, not a busload of innocent school kids. He wouldn’t. His fight is against the Lorders. My fight .
    I convince Mac that I’m all right, to leave me alone to compose myself, and stay looking at Lucy on the screen. What happened to her? I can’t work it out. One minute she is a happy kid with a kitten, a dad who lets her win at chess. The next? I shake my head. She disappears age ten, then somehow there is a huge jump, a gap in time. Rain’s memories don’t begin until about age fourteen, training with Nico and other teenagers, off in some boot camp in the woods. Learning how to shoot guns and blow things up.
    What happened to her the four years between to take her to that place?
    Amy and Jazz get back from their walk. As we leave, I touch the owl Ben’s mother made for me. It holds a secret inside. A note from Ben, still hidden. Knowing where to look I can see the tiny white speck, the corner of paper that, if pulled, reveals itself as his last words to me. But I can’t bear to look at it, not today.
    Mac holds Skye when she tries to follow us. I twist behind. Her mournful eyes follow us until she is gone from sight.
    Green trees blue sky white clouds, green trees blue sky white clouds…
    But different.
    Fields of long grass. Daisies. Alive with detail, movement and sound, like never before. Trees, but not from underneath: top branches rush past as I dive. There is a rustle that says mouse, but when I get there, it is gone.
    No matter.
    I beat my wings and climb up again, the sun warm on my feathers. I should hide, wait for dark and better hunting.
    But I want to fly to the sun. Leave this earth behind. How high can I go? I face the open sky: glide on a warm updraught, then beat my wings to reach the next one. Almost effortless, higher and higher. I can fly forever.
    Trees are merging into field, a uniform green far below, when it happens. First a gradual sense of stiffness, making my wings have to work harder to beat at all. Then, a trap. As if my flesh is inside an owl-shaped box that gradually compresses and grows smaller, tighter and heavier, no matter how I struggle. Until it isn’t flesh and feathers inside a trap, but sinew and