Helena sighed and dropped her head. “I was afraid of this. Look, Tim. We’re a community here. That means we have to make some hard choices, some times. I’ll give you three days to change your mind. That’s when Horne’s men come for the next medical sweep. If you can’t get along by then we’ll turn you over to them.” She made a point then of looking him right in the eyes.

He said nothing in return.

The three of them went their separate ways then, Tim headed back to his room. It was a simply-appointed space with a bed and a chair and a window that looked out on a swaying willow tree. He hadn’t bothered to decorate it, thinking he wasn’t going to stay long. He still didn’t, though he wasn’t sure what his next move might be.

When Buzzard knocked on his door at eleven thirty, he figured the reporter was just checking up on him. Making sure he hadn’t tried to run away under cover of the darkness. Instead Buzzard held one finger to his lips and then squeezed in through Tim’s half-open door.

“Some of us think Horne can hear us through these things,” the reporter said. He indicated his left forearm.

“Definitely not,” Tim answered.

“What’s your plan? Are you going to dig it out with a knife?”

Tim had considered that but he knew it wasn’t necessary. “Nothing so drastic. All it takes to beat this system is a little tin foil. You wrap it around your arm a couple of times and the tag is useless.”

Buzzard frowned. “That’s not going to work. Even if it did block the signal, Horne would know right away because you would blink out on his radar. Or something.”

Tim shook his head. He sat down on the side of his bed and spoke quietly. “This isn’t a microchip, and it’s not a radio either. It’s an RFID tag, a little scrap of magnetic tape. It’s like the strip on the back of a credit card. It doesn’t do a thing—it’s completely passive. It’s just encoded with a number that a scanner can read. The high-tech part is the scanner, which can read the tag from a distance—and even then it only works out to about fifty feet away. If the tag is hidden from the scanner you might as well be invisible.”

Buzzard bit his lip. “That’s not what they told us.”

“They were lying. Or maybe they just overestimated the system.” Tim shrugged. “I used to work in a library where every book had one of these tags. We could tell when a book walked out the door, and we could compare it with our computerized records so we knew if it was properly checked out or if somebody was stealing it. They used to use them on dogs and cats, too, so if they ran away a pound could scan them and figure out who their owners were.”

“What if this is something more advanced that only the military’s got?”

Tim lifted his hands in resignation. “I followed the technology pretty closely. I suppose there’s always that chance. I think it’s a lot more likely Horne just kept you all in the dark intentionally.”

“You honestly think you can sneak past their sensors? That you can get out of here without setting off an alarm?”

“Yes,” Tim said. “With a little assistance.”

Buzzard sat down in Tim’s chair and stared at the floor for a while. “I know I put up a pretty rough game back there. With the threats and all. But I do feel for you, kid. I’d like to help you if I can.”

Tim blinked rapidly. “Really? That’s—that’s very nice of you.”

“Yeah, whatever. We’ll need to be careful, though. Helena’s a sweetheart but she’s got fangs enough when she needs them. She’ll send somebody to do a bed check any minute now. I think I might be able to help you there. Stay here and wait for me, okay?”

Buzzard left and Tim remained sitting on the bed. Was it a trap? He supposed it was possible. He had no real reason to think that the reporter was as good as his word. Still—if they expected him to incriminate himself, to give them good reason to turn him over to Horne, it was a pretty strange set-up.

It took ten minutes for Buzzard to return, long minutes when Tim could only wonder what was going to happen. When he did come back the reporter didn’t knock, just slid open the door and lead in a young man a little shorter than Tim, though his hair was the same color. Tim hadn’t seen him before.

“This is Duncan,” Buzzard said.

“Pleased to meet you,” Tim said, rising automatically.

Duncan didn’t reply. He was well-groomed and though he was a little skinny he looked healthy enough. His eyes showed a different picture, though. They were blank and they didn’t track. Tim resisted the urge to pass a hand in front of Duncan’s face.

“Dunk, you’re going to sleep here tonight,” Buzzard said. Duncan nodded and climbed into Tim’s bed, pulling the sheets over himself with a practiced motion. He turned his face to the wall and then he lay there motionless. Tim had a feeling he wouldn’t get out of the bed until someone came to fetch him.

“He’s a real basket case, but he’s a good kid,” Buzzard said.

Tim understood immediately. When Helena came to check she would find someone sleeping peacefully in Tim’s bed. She wasn’t the type who would turn on the lights and check to make sure it was really him. With his face turned away from the door Duncan was almost a perfect simulacrum for Tim.

Tim slid on the straps of his pack—which held everything he owned. He wasn’t sure if he was coming back, though he didn’t say as much. Buzzard lead him out into the hallway. The house was sleeping and they didn’t meet anyone on their way down to the kitchen. Moving as quietly as they could they stole a box of aluminum foil from a drawer and then headed out into the insect-noisy alley on the side of the house. When they were far enough away from the house Buzzard whispered, “Okay. That was the easy part. You’d better be right about these tags.”

Tim nodded. Then he grabbed the other man’s shoulder. “Why are you doing this?” he asked. “Really? Don’t tell me it’s out of the goodness of your heart.”

Buzzard grinned widely, his teeth pale in the shadows. “Fuck no. I just want exclusive rights to your story. The greatest revenge caper of all time, or the idiot who jumped into hell and got hisself killed. Either way, it’ll make great copy.”