Matthias, sliding his hand along the rough wood, found only a gaping hole where the floor was broken off. Daringly, he reached down through the hole, pulling back only when he felt the breeze from the spinning tires directly below. Now it was his turn to shiver. What if Alia had fallen through this hole? What if, even now, she slid forward and dropped through it, regardless of the seat belt?

'Alia, sit back," he commanded roughly. "It's not safe over here."

"Did you get a splinter?" Alia asked.

Sometimes it was hard to remember that Alia was only six or seven, only a little kid. She'd withstood life on the streets and Population Police interrogation. But when Matthias warned her about danger, she still thought about splinters before imminent death.

"No, I'm fine," Matthias insisted, even though his mind was supplying a horrid picture of what might have hap' pened if he'd reached his arm down only a little farther, if the tires had caught it and sucked his body down and he'd been crushed beneath the wheels.

Did Percy and Alia worry about the worst possibilities as much as he did?

Hoping to clear his mind, Matthias stood halfway up, his hands searching higher and higher on the wooden wall behind him. He thought it was still dark enough that none of the Population Police would see him. He looked out over the truckload of huddled children, most of them too exhausted and terrified even to whimper now. Through the cracks in the wood, he could see the lights of the other trucks. How many? Four, five, six? All carrying dozens of children — where? And why?

"The little ones won't last a week in the work camp," the one Population Police officer had said.

Matthias's search became even more frantic. He dared to reach higher. He was rewarded with a sudden pain in his hand.

"Ow," he moaned, and pulled his hand back to rub the new wound, which was already bleeding.