The Fox Inheritance (Jenna Fox Chronicles 2)

I shake my head. "Sorry. It's just that--" I look at Kara, hoping she can help.

Kara leans forward in the seat and speaks softly to Dot. Her voice is slow and kind. "We're not disturbed, Dot. We're lost. Like we said, we've been gone for a long time. A very long time. The world's gone on without us." Her head drops for a moment and then she looks back up. Dot's eyes fix on her through the mirror. "We've had our own version of"--her voice cracks, and she clears her throat--"our own version of being released. We've had years of 'inactive duty.'" She leans closer and whispers, "Do you understand?"

Dot nods, like she is hypnotized, never taking her eyes from Kara.

"I thought you would," Kara says. "There's so much we need to know, or we'll never ... escape. Can you tell us everything? Everything we might need to know?"

Dot's head bobs. "Everything," she says firmly. "I understand. I do." Our revulsion at her half body has been covered up by Kara's careful, soulful plea.

Kara sits back in her seat, and as she does, she briefly glances at me. Even though her eyes are clear and cold, with none of the warmth I just heard in her voice, I pull her close to me. I don't care. I know what she has done, and it serves us both. I am scared, and I want to survive, and Dot ... she is only a Bot, and she might be able to help us.

Chapter 14

Dot tells us the trip to Boston via the side roads will take approximately two hours. Before this, we really had no idea how far we were from anything. Dr. Gatsbro never told us exactly where the estate was, only that it was some distance from Manchester, where his labs were. The landscape is amazingly recognizable. My family had driven through New Hampshire many times to see cousins in Merrimack. If I didn't know how much time has passed, I would think it was still 260 years ago. Except for one thing. If possible, the sky is bluer, or maybe it just seems that way seeing it against deep green pastures, or maybe I'm just appreciating what I never took the time to notice before. Dot tells us that the countryside itself is part of a preserve. Apparently the same council who said she didn't require legs decided humans needed preserved rural lands. I like the idea until I learn that there are no real farmers here. The small groves and farms we see are all government owned and controlled so that they can maximize aesthetics and minimize impact. The only real farms now are on vast, distant tracts of land owned by government-approved corporations. Still, I am hypnotized by the beauty, which I guess is the point.

White split-rail fences meander over hills, and when I spot a red barn in the distance, I point it out to Kara and wonder for a moment if this could all be a horrible dream and no time has passed at all. But then I look at the iScroll patch on my palm, as thin as a tattoo and just as firmly secured, and I think about Dot and her half body just an arm's length from me. This is my new reality. Time has passed. My world is gone forever.

We crest the top of a hill, and I'm just about to point out a flock of sheep in a distant pasture, when a large shadow passes over us. Kara and I both strain to look out our windows and up into the sky.

"Yip, that's a low one!" Dot says.

"A low what--"

And then we see it. An enormous craft of some sort, so large I can't even see all of it yet, so large that it is still casting a shadow over us. And then it passes, and the sunshine returns.

Kara is now dipping her head and looking out the front window. "What is that?"

"A sweeper? You haven't seen one before? Well, usually they don't fly that low in their cycles. There must be a minor disturbance somewhere nearby. They're easy to miss otherwise."

We find that Dot is a wealth of information, the kind of cab driver who is well versed in all interests to accommodate her customers. She tells us that sweepers have been around for over a hundred years. They're the vacuum cleaners of the sky. They were developed after a monster volcano in Yellowstone blew and plunged much of the world

into winter for several years, but they weren't invented soon enough to prevent massive starvation and disease. Millions of people died worldwide. The workforce was so severely depleted it gave rise to the proliferation of Bots.

"The world was lucky, actually. It could have been much worse--they said the explosion wasn't even half of what it could have been. Eventually the ash settled into jet streams, so the whole race didn't vanish. A warning, really, to all the Eaters and Breathers."

We learn that is what the Bots call us, the Eaters and Breathers, like we are spineless slugs at the mercy of our biology and the environment, which I suppose we are. At least I think Kara and I are in the class of Eaters and Breathers. I'm not sure I can trust anything Dr. Gatsbro told us.

"Now they mostly patrol in the upper atmosphere waiting to be called into use. Some hostile countries and a few Non-pacts still resort to primitive biowarfare, but the sweepers usually make those attacks a futile game of pounding chests. Of course, every decade or so a nuclear attack isn't intercepted by Galactic Radar Defense and then the sweepers are brought into overtime--all air travel is grounded. That can last for weeks."

I stare out the window as Dot tells us more and more about this world that I don't understand and don't fit into. As she talks, I take in every green hill, every pond, every sheep, and every cow. I tell myself some things are still the same. Some things.

We'll be okay.

I look at Kara. She nods and squeezes my hand.

Some things are still the same.

Chapter 15

I was scared when we moved. I came home from my first day at the new school, and I didn't want to go back. I was sure I would never make it. It was intense. Way more intense than my last school, and I was starting midsemester. I was certain I would never catch up. I wanted to go back to my old school, where I at least knew who would steal my lunch money. My mom didn't want to hear that. This whole move was for me and my sister. I heard the whispers in the kitchen when my dad got home and then he came to my room to talk about it.

"I don't fit in, Dad. Nothing's the same. I might as well be on another planet. It's completely different from Bellwood High."

"Different isn't necessarily bad, Locke. Just different. And in this case, I know it's a good thing. Trust me. You're just a little overwhelmed today."

I jumped on his words, emphasizing that I would never fit in, because I was certain he didn't hear me the first time I said it. I hoped that would end the conversation. It didn't.

"It takes time," he said firmly. "Think of it as a journey, Locke. A long one. Not a sprint. You'll find your way." He pulled my desk chair closer to the bed where I was lying and sat down. I knew I was in for a long one. "Sure there are going to be changes, even detours and setbacks--probably lots of them. But you have to remember what's important. The goal."