"You'll need your energy in Chiutza," Officer Houk said from the front seat. Now he turned around, now that all evidence of the other boy's greed was out of sight. "You have to knock on every door and summon every resident to a meeting in the town square."

"Why?" It was the other boy who asked this. Stealing Luke's food must have made him cocky.

Luke flinched, waiting for Officer Houk to reach back and strike the boy, and maybe Luke, too, for good measure. But Officer Houk only frowned.

"We're issuing new identification cards to every citizen in the country," Officer Houk said. "We're doing it all at once, in a single day. That's where all these jeeps are going, to give out the I.D.'s in other towns and villages." He gestured at the vehicles ahead of them and behind them, some already turning off the main road to smaller, rutted paths.

Luke knew better than to ask the next question. He knew about officers' tempers. But he couldn't stop the words bursting out of his own mouth: "Why do people need new I.D.'s? What's wrong with the old ones?"

Officer Houk narrowed his eyes at Luke, studying Luke's face. He really sees me now. He'll remember me, Luke thought, fighting the familiar terror that had haunted him ever since he'd come out of hiding, the familiar desire to scream, Don't look at me! Luke didn't even bother to brace himself to be hit, because it didn't matter. No punishment was worse than being stared at.

But Officer Houk only shrugged.

"There's nothing wrong with the old I.D.'s," he said. "The new ones are just better."

And Luke, who had to fight so hard to read facial expressions, who had to struggle to interpret tones in strangers' voices, watched carefully as Officer Houk turned back around to face the wind rushing at them.

He's lying, Luke thought, hopefully. Then, with less certainty: If he's lying, I think I know the truth. Could it be—?